Page 32 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

“Grandad exploited them, then his enemies killed them.” Tom’s stomach soured; he hated these stories. His grandad, and all other Alphas, were self-righteous monsters. These types of narratives were not unusual and were the main reason he never wanted to be Alpha. The title was tainted. He couldn’t imagine abusing his position in such a way.

“Yes,” his dad admitted. “But it was worse than that. The bears wanted to end entire bloodlines. Once the killings started, a lot of families packed up and moved, changed their names. I don’t know how many of them the bears tracked down before we ended the war. But, after the war and the killings stopped, they kept leaving Fairville, changing their names trying to hide. We tried to explain it wasn’t necessary anymore.”

“But scared people don’t always make sense,” Tom said.

“Nope, they sure don’t. Fear can make you do strange things. When I became Alpha, I tried to find as many as I could. I invited them back to Fairville. I told them if they moved back, they wouldn’t have to work like my father forced them to, and anyone who lived there would be under the pack’s protection. A few moved back, some I never found. I still consider that one of my great failures as Alpha.”

“It’s not your fault, Charles,” Elaine said. “You are not responsible for what your father did. The man was a bastard.”

His father laughed without humor, then went on. “Tom, what do you and your heads think it is?”

Tom explained the various theories about the bears hunting him because he’d intervened in the hunt, and the very feeble theory the bears were on a road trip and were just passing through. Saying it aloud, it sounded even more implausible.

His dad grumbled on the other end. “Bears don’t stay in one place for long. It’s possible they were planning on passing through, but you need to be careful. Interrupting their hunt like that, that transferred the target from this human woman to you. But I agree that the fact you haven’t found a solid scent trail is suspicious.”

“The book,” Elaine said, “there’s a book in the library, Dancing with Demons I think it’s called. It talks about deals and the powers and consequences that come with them.”

“Thanks, I’ll pull it out and take a look.” Tom made a mental note of the title. The home library that doubled as his office was full of obscure leather-bound books from various origins and centuries, so it might take him a while to track that one down.

“Do it in the morning, Tom,” Charles said. “It’s late, get some sleep. An Alpha’s no good to his pack if he’s not on the top of his game.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he replied, knowing full well he was going straight to the library after hanging up. “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”

After saying goodbye, Tom went to find the demon book.

Running a hand through his hair, he tugged on it until it stuck up in an odd ginger halo. He glared around the office. Rich woods in deep brown lined the walls, filled with books, some obscure and in dead languages. Most all of them were about the supernatural underground. In the center of the room was an oversized, ornately carved desk in the same wood. The few walls that weren’t lined with books were empty. This was the only room in the house, other than his bedroom, that didn’t have any art.

The tall, dark shelves full of bloody books on witchcraft and monsters reminded him of his grandfather. He loathed his grandfather, his legacy. Maybe that’s why he hated the office so much when he first became Alpha; he’d been petty enough to refuse to sit at the desk for four months. He’d meant to get art to put on the walls—a nice landscape, something to remind him of running through the forest—to make it feel more like his own. He hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Searching for the book took him over twenty minutes because the title was half worn from the binding.

Dancing With Demons: deals, and the power they provide, and the consequences they promise.

It was written by a monk in the fourteenth century. Sitting on the corner of his desk, he flipped through the first few pages. Half the parchment was worn and impossible to read, some of it not in English. Great, this was going to take him forever to decode. The information came with gruesome illustrations.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he put the book on his desk and quickly searched for nearby craft stores on his smartphone. He found one twenty miles from Donna’s Diner. Pinning the location on his phone, he went to bed.

Eight

Clarissa

“Order up!” Adam called from the kitchen window.

Waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, bacon strips, Canadian bacon, and eggs. Placing the plates in front of Jeff and Eugene, Clarissa beamed at them. “Enjoy!”

“Well, aren’t you perky today,” Jeff commented.

“Rachel’s had a few good days in a row,” she said.

It wasn’t a flat-out lie, but she didn’t want to admit the real reason she was in such a good mood. Thomas said ‘next time’ yesterday after he walked her to her car. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get it out of her mind. That and she’d had dreams about a redheaded lumberjack taking her on a picnic in the woods again. This time the dream ended with them sweaty and naked.

“That’s good,” Eugene said.

She turned to set up the coffee maker to brew another pot as the door jingled open.

“Did you ever call Elizabeth?” Eugene asked. “For her to set up home visits for Rachel?”

“Not yet,” Clarissa admitted. “I’m picking up extra shifts making the pie here. With that extra money, I should be able to pay off the last of my car repairs this week, then I’ll give her a call.”